Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [9]
Maudlin fool. The death such a spellstorm would cause! Entire realms shattered-folk and trees alike twisted for years to come… no. Get out and have a pipe and think more useful thoughts.
As always, Elminster's feet led him to the rocks beside his pool. Their familiar ledges, smoothed by his backside over many hours of sitting, were solid and reassuring beneath him as he looked out across the still waters and made smoke.
Blue-green and thick, it coiled up out of his pipe, sparks swirling in its heart as they sought the sun high above.
Elminster watched them leap and spiral; his eyes saw Shandril hurling spellfire instead, and he wondered how far she'd gotten by now, and if worse foes than bumbling Zhentilar had found her.
Two stones at his feet clicked together, a tiny enchantment that told him someone was coming up the path to his tower. Elminster did not turn to look-not even when they clicked again to tell him his visitor had turned down the short run of flagstones that led to the pool. He merely let the pipe float out of his mouth, and said calmly, "Fair morning."
"Oh. Ah, aye. That it is." The voice was high and uncertain. Elminster looked into eyes that were very blue; they belonged to a young boy he'd never seen before, a lad in a nondescript tunic and gray hose.
He came hopping down to the edge of the pool and kicked at a half-submerged stone at the water's edge. He looked back over his shoulder at the Old Mage, and asked, "You're Elminster, aren't you?"
The Old Mage regarded him thoughtfully. "I generally answer to that name, aye."
The boy grinned at him with the impish confidence of youth; an older person would never ha?ve dared utter the next question Elminster heard. "So what're you just sitting here, an' not making blue dragons turn cartwheels, or the sky go black, or-or-you know?"
"I'm thinking," the Old Mage said simply. There was a silence, but the lad waited patiently for him to say more. Surprising, for one so young. After a breath or two Elminster added, "It's a harder thing to do than hurling dragons around or bringing down night during the day."
"It is? So what're you thinking about?"
Elminster looked warily into those guileless eyes. They stared back at him with no hint of unsavory motive, clear, direct, and innocent; deep, brown, and steady.
Elminster watched a golden light growing in them, smiled inwardly and, without a word or gesture to betray his intent, called into being four balls of writhing fire.
Trailing sparks, the spheres of flame roared away from him, smashed into the boy, and hurled him far out over the pool. There was a ground-shaking blast as the morning exploded into bright flame. The noise was followed by a mighty splash.
The pipe glided to the Old Mage's lips again. He smoked, sober eyes fixed on the roiling waters of the pool, waiting.
He did not wait long. Something smoldering and tentacled rose up out of the pool. The plumes of smoke rising from it thickened as it broke clear of the waters. It no longer looked anything like a human boy. Its mottled, bubbled skin seemed to flow and shift as Elminster watched it grow two limbs that became humanlike arms, the ends parting and melting into fingers. As the coalescing hands waved, butter-colored eyes swam into view in the thicker bulk below, fixing him with a hard stare. The skin parted in a gash that shaped itself into a mouth, that…
The spell the Old Mage hurled this time tore the very water out of the pool. Fish, startled turtles,